Creepypasta Collection Book 3

The Chronicles of Curse Word Part 2

I try to draw a ragged breath, try to cry out, but the pain consumes and overwhelms me. My eyes reflexively close against the otherworldly pain as the tendrils hold me aloft and tear into my flesh anew. They pale in comparison to the undulating, rotating mass, drilling and contorting inside my chest as it plunges itself deeper. I can't gather my thoughts against the ripping pain infusing and surrounding me.

"Oh, no, no, Curse Word. You don't get to hide from this!" Ink barks into my face. The coils beneath my eyelids shift and harden in an instant. With a sickening wet snip, my eyelids fly through the air; my vision returned against my will to the horror before me. The sights and sensations overwhelm me as guttural screams echo into obscurity.

"Ink! Let her go! You're killing her!" Mag's voice rings clearly in my head, my eyes snapping away from the macabre vision before me, towards her voice. No Mag... run... don't... let... her ge... NO! She reaches through the midnight black bars, crumpled against her prison as she wails my name. The inky birdcage shifts around her as she extends her hooves as far as she can reach and tears cascade down her muzzle.

Tendrils snake around the exposed bones in my limbs, slicing tendon and muscle with ease. There is no release or respite and my concept of time shatters with my mind as the litany of pain amplifies. The smell of rancid decay violates my flared nostrils and decaying flesh joins the pristine viscera that carpets the floor as my body regenerates. Oh... Celestia No!... Luna... Protect ME. The horror seeps into every nerve, every fiber as realization burns through the fog of pain in my mind: my body keeps regenerating... this can go on... forever if she wants it to. Cold sweat breaks out on the few patches of fur that haven't come back patchy and rancid, a new fear gripping me.

"You cannot deny who you are, Curse Word!" The cracked and broken surface makes rasping sounds as the leather mask dances and taunts me, a yellow aura holding it before my face. "This is the monster you are! The Lost Narrator, reader of stories and damner of souls! But something's missing? Oh wait... I know!"

The tendrils tense and contort, pulling my body taut into a standing position as my vision blurs to red. This excruciating pain reaches levels no mortal pony could survive; my mind fracturing under the unrelenting misery of a thousand eternities. The red bleeds from my vision and I'm greeted by the moronic, stitched smile and shining gaze of the leather mask. Her taunting laughter accompanies its stoic descent. It gently comes to rest on my snout; a single coil slowly pushes it into place. I feel my rotten flesh extend and caress its broken and weathered surface, fusing and melting into the leather.

It's a calming, welcoming presence in this new world of agony and torment.

"And as for you!" My bleary mind struggles to focus as I turn my head in Mag's direction. The viscous mass lunges towards her and the cage. "You really are a whore, aren't you?!" Ink screams at Mag, lashing a tendril at the cage.

Mag yelps in fear and adrenaline floods into my broken frame. I struggle against the coils, but they intertwine and contract around my limbs, locking me in place. I try to force my muzzle open, to scream out, but my mask is sewn shut, muting me.

The cage around Mag shifts and flashes before transmuting into brass. She shrinks back against the bars, a wounded bird confined in her cramped cell.

"Let her go, Ink! You already have me! What more do you want?" Mag shouts back, fear and adrenaline giving power to her voice.

"I want my little bird to behave like a proper mare, not a common whore! How... dare you! How dare you press your... lips on..." Ink trails off, her semi-fluid form roiling and frothing with rage. "How could you? How could you do this to me, after all I've done and sacrificed for you?!"